


IT IS A CERTAIN INEVITABILITY

by deanspacenine



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanspacenine/pseuds/deanspacenine
Summary: Nicholas Mora is having a strange vision, and he needs help to receive the call.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	IT IS A CERTAIN INEVITABILITY

IT IS A CERTAIN INEVITABILITY  
a blaseball story 

The fans’ blaseball chants are calming to Nicholas Mora. Tonight, however, his head throbs with a more sinister chanting.

He almost misses the bus after the game. Something feels off. He barely remembers who they had played, if they won or lost, or if he even threw a pitch. He shakes his head and rubs his eyes as he grabs a post-game coffee at Hoagie’s table. He pours a ton of creamer. He needs the clarity of a perfect cup of coffee to get him through the trip to the next city.  
The Philly Pies are on the road again, crammed in their cozy bus. The bus, a double decker touring model, is affectionately called ‘the Krimpet’ by the team. The lower deck has elongated seats for each of the players to use as a bunk. The upper deck is a cobbled together ‘common room,’ styled after Philadelphia hole-in-the-wall dive bars. The walls are covered with years of mystical runes and his teammate’s doodles.  
Tonight, Mora stares at the runes. 

He opens a book, some simple spellbook he found in the Hades Library. He studies whenever the team isn't practicing or playing. He desires to be a member of the Wizard Legion one day, perhaps when he was free from his obligation to blaseball. 

The book he reads tonight doesn’t help his odd feeling. He dozes off into a light sleep halfway through the chapter…  
Ancient thunder claps in the recesses of his mind. He sees a wide landscape, a deep mountain valley with verdant vegetation. Storm clouds brew far away, approaching closer. In the mist of the first few drops of rain, he sees a face. A craggled face with a great robust beard, the kind of beard that Mora himself tries to grow in the off-season. The massive face speaks… but Mora doesn’t hear the words it says. There is… interference. Static. Dead static. A few booming parts of sentences breach through the static. Not enough to understand clearly. 

Frustrated, Mora wakes himself up using wizardly awareness of his subconscious. He walks down to the lower deck of the bus, careful not to wake the whole team. They are exhausted after tonight’s game, but he needs some help. 

He places a gentle hand on Jessica Telephone’s forehead. Her curly dirty blonde hair bristles his palm. He makes a quick hand sigil, sending waves to stir her awake without shock.  
Jessica’s eyes open. She looks at Mora and whispers. “Hey, Nick, what’s up? Can’t sleep?” 

Nicholas hasn’t learned English yet, one of the common tongues of his fellow splorts peers. He responds telepathically, while he speaks Latin aloud. “Jessica Telephone,” his mental voice is deep and expansive. “I am sorry to wake you, but I am in need of your namesake.” 

She sits up, keeping her voice down. “If you’d like to make a call, you’ve come to the right place.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mora sits on the floor of the upper deck with Jessica. Her legendary bat, the Dial Tone, sits between them. 

“Maybe we can use the Dial Tone to amplify your magic,” Jessica says. “Hold this.” She unplugs the spiral cord of the phone that connects to the bat. She hands him the end of the cord. Jessica presses “#” on the dial pad that sits embedded in her cheek. “Wrap your hand around that plug. Hold it tight.” He obliges and holds it. “I’ll stay awake and aim the bat to get you better reception, okay? This should work. Let me know what this is all about, too. I might get the halfalogue and that always bothers me.” 

Nicholas nods. “Thank you, Jessica Telephone. I will surely provide the details when I get the conversation I seek.” It takes him minutes to get back to sleep.  
The face, its big billowy bread and solemn old features, reappears to Mora in this second dream. The voice speaks again, and the static wavers. He feels Jessica pointing the bat as an antennae. The words are much clearer now. He uses his wizardly senses to put his physical hand into a ‘thumbs up’ gesture. Jessica stops moving the bat. 

“THE PROPHECY IS TOO GREAT TO STAY UNKNOWN, NICHOLAS MORA,” the face says. The face speaks Latin.

“Who are you?” Nicholas responds with care. 

“LOOK UPON MY FACE AND KNOW,” the face said, sounding very cool in Latin. 

Nicholas studies the features of the face. It grows clearer as Jessica holds the Dial Tone steady. Nicholas’s mouth hangs open. The beard he tries to grow during the off-season… this face is his own!  
“How is this possible?” Nicholas asks.

“NICHOLAS MORA, TIME IS NOT AS IT SEEMS. YOU NEED TO KNOW THE PROPHECY. THE SECRET OF SECRETS. IIEOOIIEOOIAUAHUAUAHUAXIAAOXIAAOXHAAOAHAAOAHEHAUIEHAUIEAAIUOAAIUOAHAAEIHAAEIHIUAEHIUAEHIEOAHEEOAHEE!!!!!!!!!”

“Please, tell of the prophecy. I must know! Iieooiieooiauahuauahuaxiaaoxiaaoxhaaoahaaoahehauiehauieaaiuoaaiuoahaaeihaaeihiuaehiuaehieoaheeoahee!”

They both release their singular soulscream, rippling the sound through the lush valley. 

“THE PROPHECY GOES LIKE THIS…” the face of Other Mora looks intensely solemn as it speaks. “BISCAYNE BAY ON FIRE. BIRDS AND PEANUTS SWIRL IN A SAD STORM. THE CALL IS DROPPED. TELEPHONE HANGS UP. NO ONE MUST KNOW BUT US, NICHOLAS MORA.” 

Nicholas feels his heart drop. This was not the prophecy he was looking for. He wanted secrets of Ascension, not defeat. He nods to the face in silent response, and wakes himself up.  
He returns to full consciousness. He notices immediately that he is surrounded by the rest of the roster of the Pies. His soulscream must have travelled. Betsy, Eduardo, Yeong-Ho, Beasley… all of his friends here to get some news of his vision. 

Jessica Telephone looks at him expectantly. 

“So that went well, right? Sounds like you were able to talk. What was the prophecy?”

Nicholas Mora smiles. He tries not to look her in the eyes. She is the ace of the ILB, the star of many fan’s hearts. To know of her impending doom… the responsibility is almost too much to handle. “It is a certain inevitability,” he says telepathically, “that the Pies will win again. We will get a blessing soon.” He avoids the eyes of all of his teammates. They don’t seem to notice. 

Jessica smiles wide and sighs with relief. Everyone’s spirits lift. Bright and Kennedy give each other a high-five. Jaxon Buckley yells a ‘yee-haw.’ The Pies had a rough and unlucky few weeks. This lie is enough to cheer them up for a brief moment. 

“Okay team, rest easy tonight. We’ll have a big breakfast to celebrate before tomorrow’s game!” Jessica commands the team well. Everybody shuffles back to bed as Jessica turns to Mora. “You’re doing great, Nick. Thank you for the morale boost tonight. Sleep well!” She darts down the stairs. 

Nicholas Mora does not sleep well tonight.


End file.
